Clash Of Creation
by crutchytheunicorn
Summary: Some people consider a new life a blessing, but for the teenagers of 1900 New York, it's a nightmare.
1. Chapter 1

When Sarah Jacobs had gotten her very first poetry book, she thought that was love. She surrounded herself with Walt Whitman, Edgar Allen Poe and Emily Dickinson. She was one of the only literate girls at the shop, where she worked. Sometimes her parents would catch her on the fire escape, the candle blown out, where she had fallen asleep to stay up reading. This went on for most of her life, until a year ago when a certain young boy had came to supper.

Now she was sitting next to that same boy, teaching him and her youngest brother how to read. Dizzy with memories from previous nights, she ran her finger over the words, helping Les pronounce them. Jack Kelly sat with his arm around her chair, anxious for his turn.

Les began with the first lines of Dickinson's _The Sky Is Low_: "The sky is low, the clouds are mean, a travelling flake of snow across a barn or through a rut, debates if it will go." The little boy smiled. He had forgotten to read since the strike.

Jack's stomach turned when she flipped through a few pages and passed the book to him. He was embarrassed by his illiteracy, and especially in front of Sarah. He didn't like the feeling of stupidity. All through the long poem she had selected, he tripped over the words and stumbled over his own tongue. She tried to keep a straight face. For him, it was awful.

"Put those things away and get ready for supper." Esther quipped at them. Her daughter went and put the books back in the bedroom, scowling.

Jack watched her walk back in forth, cleaning up the place. He always wondered where she got her grace from. When Jack was hawking headlines, he was the 'great strike leader of 1899'. But when he was in her presence, he wasn't worthy of anything. He never thought he would get a girl like Sarah. She was beautiful, he thought to himself, even if she did look upset.

David was the one to bring Jack back from his thoughts. The second eldest of the Jacobs children had just came home from the loading dock, where he and Jack shared the same profession. He never came home late. Never missed a meal or came up short on his income. He was getting a little taller, but since the strike he had not changed.

David hugged his friend and pulled up a chair, for they had not seen each other in quite some time. As Jack stood up to seat Sarah, he asked, "So, still saving up for Santa Fe?"

"Nah. All I need's right here." Jack lied. Really it was only half-true, but lies were _always _better than letting parents know.

Mr. Jacobs pulled in his seat, asking the boys how the headlines where. It was an awkward supper from then on. Sarah nervously turned her soup over in her spoon. For the past month she had been lying and anxious. Sometimes she even felt sick. She assured herself it was just nerves, and that it was worth it.

"Haven't seen you in about two months, Mr. Kelly. Where have you been? Usually it's only a week between visits, at the longest." inquired Esther.

Cowboy swallowed hard. "I've just been carrying the banner, ma'am. I ain't been here 'cause of bad headlines. Plus old man Pulitzer's been hosting some events for us newsies at the theatre."

Sarah glanced at David across the table. He was squinting, something he did when he was nervous. He could tell something was up. Nobody just disappeared for a month and came back blaming it on work. Especially Cowboy, and his sister.

"I don't think I've seen you either." The boy said, smirking. Jack kicked him under the table and took Sarah's hand, comforting her.

No one talked for the rest of the meal, with the exception of Les who was boasting about how he had won against Racetrack Higgins in a game of poker earlier that day. He was only ten years of age, but he could also feel the intensity. David, Sarah, and Jack exchanged looks throughout it all. Never had the table been so silent.

Esther declared the meal was over and quickly took the plates to the counter. Sarah, overwhelmed with nerves and fatigue, went to her bed. Jack followed her, and Les followed Jack.

She might've cried if Jack hadn't come to her. He took her from behind, brushing her hair back. Neither of them noticed the ten-year-old at the door.

"What's the matter?" Jack said in her ear, almost demanding. "You upset 'cause I can't read?"

In truth, she was, but only just. She freed herself and went to the window. "I've never lied to them before."

"It ain't lying, just-"

"Improving the truth a little. I know. You wouldn't understand. Everybody thinks I'm an innocent little girl when I'm not." She watched as he pulled up a chair next to her. "They're my family."

"I'm sorry I ain't sayin' the right things…but it's going to be worth it. We can raise up some more money and buy the World, like I promised."

"Now you're just being silly." She turned around and reaching for her comb, she whispered, "I think at least David deserves to know."

"No, he don't. He don't get this." Jack felt terrible saying that, and he took her hand. "Just hang in there. They'll forget about it soon enough."

Whatever Jack had done to his sister, Les wanted to know. He told David about what he heard, and in the morning they were going to find out. They worried about their sister. And they wondered if the other newsies knew what had happened. Whatever it was, they were going to find out.

Neither of them slept well that night.


	2. Chapter 2

In the faint sunlight coming in from the windows, Sarah lie undisturbed in her bed. Les crawled across the room on all fours. He felt like one of the soldiers who had charged up San Juan hill. He was on a mission, David as his captain. He reached his sister's bed and looked at her for a minute. She was talking in her sleep. He had noticed changes since her return a month ago: she looked sick from the moment she woke to the late afternoon, and bought twice as much at the market. Two bits worth of bread and other necessities. Les and David had talked about this last night, how they were going to make up headlines to keep the family going.

That was the mission, Les remembered. Just find it and get out. The tiniest bit of nerves came over him as he quietly laid down and fingered around under her bed. He quickly found an old hairbrush and one of Jack's bandanas. Forearms covered with dust, he silently went through her bedside table. There he found Jack's old Western Joe comic, the one he had shown to the boys when he first talked about Santa Fe. Les opened it and there he found it. A photograph dated two months ago, black-and-white. The moment captured was Sarah and Jack beside a horse with an Indian in the background. It was the kind of thing you could get for 50 cents at carnivals. They were both looking at each other with broad smiles and flushed faces. Les gasped as he turned to put it away. Sarah began to sit up.

He thought maybe she didn't see him. He stayed still long enough to see her roll over and go back to sleep, whispering a Western tune as she did so. Then he ran out to the fire escape, where David was waiting.

"You got it?"

"Yeah, I got it." Les presented the photo to his brother, frowning. "I don't like digging through her stuff."

"Last time, I promise." David wasn't proud of it either. He didn't think asking her was a good idea. This was the only way, and he was too concerned to feel guilty.

"If we ask Jack, do you think he'll tell us?"

"No. It's his business."

"Her business too."

"It's different with her. She's our sister." David examined the photo, noting how they were looking at each other. He had seen Sarah look at the leader before, her eyes sweet and cheeks rosy from blushing too often. A thought came to his head and he instantly regretted it. "Maybe they had-"

He didn't get to finish that sentence Sarah had appeared on the escape too, holding her basket of doilies. Her face was gray from fatigue, but her smile was still sweet. She smiled as her brothers stammered awkwardly.

"Mornin'." She said brightly. "What are you boys reading?"

"Uh-" stuttered David, still holding the photograph and in awe of how sick she looked. "Sheepshead tallies."

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence as Les stepped forward. "You OK?"

"I'm fine." She kissed them both and started to go back inside. "Tell Racetrack I said good luck."

David knew something was the matter. He had a clue, but never did Sarah get up this early. Both he and Les stood silent as children began to walk the streets on the way to work.

"What now?" Les asked.

"I guess we should forget about this."

The two proceeded back inside, and then headed down to the streets. They knew they weren't going to forget about it, but they might as well leave it alone, until it was brought up again.

Back at the alleys between the loading docks and the lodging house, Jack Kelly hitched a ride to the World building. Along with him were two of his friends, young boys people called Mush and Crutchy. Once they were on the wagon, they got to talking about the past year. Mush still repeated everything, his voice significantly deeper. Crutchy noted to Jack about how the boys in the Refuge had nicked the copy of the Sun out of Snyder's back pocket. Almost every newsboy picked up that skill from the pickpocket people called Swifty.

"It was the best thing, they couldn't get over your picture – everyone was smilin' all around, even Ten-Pin…"

"Ain't that nice." Jack commented.

Mush laughed and patted his leader on the back. "Whaddya know, what's nicer: gettin' your picture in the papes or Sarah?"

"Sarah."

"You had a real nice time with her months ago, didn't you?"

Jack told them everything. Everything the Jacobs couldn't know. He went on for about four or five blocks before Mush interrupted,

"What was it like?"

"Better than the Meadowlark on a free night."

They jumped off the wagon at the gates and walked in. All the things he had just said, they never got old, Jack thought. And all the newsboys could tell what he was thinking about, for there was a huge grin on his face. Racetrack Higgins laughed and with open arms he went to Mush.

"Tell me I won. Did I win?"

Mush smiled and flipped him two bits. The boys had bet on the outcome of Jack's story.

"How was it?" Kid Blink asked, fixing his hat. "Everything in that old comic of yours was true?"

"It was all worth it." Jack lit a cigarette and taking his papers, he walked down the steps. "Worth every cent."

Nobody seemed to notice the two boys at the counter, eavesdropping on them. It was David and Les, still on that mission of theirs. It was Snipeshooter who pointed them out to Jack, who quieted all the others down. As they came through the crowd, they all pretended to adjust their caps so they wouldn't spill the secret. Kid Blink scrunched his nose up, Mush rubbing his forehead, and Racetrack puffed on his cigar.

"Everything all right here?" David asked, more to the air than to people. He stared at Jack, pulling Les away from greeting Blanket.

"Ain't nothing to worry about." Chorused the newsies. Jack stared back at his friend. This was his business, something to do with love. Yes, David had proved himself last year…but on this topic, he might as well still be a schoolboy.

"What's the matter?" David pushed on, his tone slightly sarcastic. "You look like you've seen a book."

Jack lunged forward, but Itey and Bumlets held him back.

David rolled his eyes and moved forward. Les was hesitant on following. It was almost as if he had to pick sides. But after all he was Jack's selling partner, and he stayed with him. After being patted on the back by Racetrack and Blanket, the boy turned to Jack, who bent down to him.

"Why are youse keeping secrets?"

"'Cause, kid, this is between Sarah and me. It's hard to explain, but you're gonna understand one of these days."

Les looked around at the newsboys surrounding him and Jack. "Them too?"

"Them too." He felt guilty for keeping Les out of it, for lying to a ten-year-old.

"You said we were family. You just disappeared. Me and David's real worried about Sarah."

Jack's stomach dropped. He was also wondering why Sarah was acting like that last night, and he hugged the little boy. "We just went away for a few weeks. But don't worry, Les. I was good to her."

It worried the newsboys to see Les upset like this. He looked like he could cry at any moment, but he kept a smile on. He and David were also brothers to the newsies. They knew if one of them got hurt, they all got hurt. They suspected it worked the same way in a real family as well.

But they couldn't say anything, for Jack had banned them from doing so. They carried on like normal, filling the streets of New York City with their voices, hawking the headlines for a penny a pape.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah heard the shouts of jack and the other newsboys from the sewing mill. Hours after they had set out to sell, she rested on her stool, reading Leaves Of Grass. It was one of her favorites. She heard David cry his headline from across the street. Suddenly, she wasn't at peace anymore, even though she held Whitman in her hands.

She read the next line to herself, trying to forget about it. _Great genius and the people of these states must never be demeaned to romances_.

Sarah loved Jack, but she couldn't keep lying to David. It wasn't right to keep him from the truth. It was a great thing that is was, something she would never forget. But because of Jack forbidding her to tell, she regretted ever doing it.

"Jacobs." said the overseer, sending her a deathly stare. "How many times have I told you to quit readin' and get to work?"

Sarah jerked to her feet, knocking over the stool. "Sorry, sir. I just felt sick and had to—"

"Stop." The man demanded, coming down the stairs to face his employee closer. The other girls stared. "You don't have to brag about knowin' how to read."

"I wasn't bragging—"

"Shh. Some people aren't as fortunate as you."

Sarah bit her lip, feeling nauseas. She didn't like the ugly old man, especially when he got in her face. She put the book on the stool and went with the man to the spinning room.

"Put your hair up. Last week, someone got her hair stuck in the spindle."

"Honest, sir, I wasn't – I've just been exhausted-"

"Pretty girls don't read." The overseer pushed her down on the stool when they reached her work station. "Now shut up and get to work."

Once she was alone, she started to cry. The other girls around her noticed how emotionally viotale she had been for the past few weeks. None of them knew why. Even she didn't.

She whispered her thoughts to herself, frustrated. "Pretty girls don't read, bullshit…" She knew it wasn't acceptable for young ladies to swear, but she didn't care. Pulling the lever, imitating Jack: "We had a real couple of good weeks, but don't tell nobody, you hear?" She remembered how she asked he would tell the other newsies. Knowing Jack, he instantly said he would. It was unfair how he could tell his family, but she couldn't tell hers. She swiped away the sweat on her forehead and let the thread run through her fingers as it spun on the wheel. She declared right then that she wasn't going to do anything she didn't want to.

Except for the involuntary, of course. She ran to the waste-basket and kneeled over it. The other girls watched as she threw up her breakfast, eyes tightly shut. One of them asked if she was alright, a five-year-old Spanish immigrant. She nodded, even though that was the wrong answer.

The only thing going through her mind was the question: why wasn't she?

At lunchtime, Jack watched Sarah excuse herself to the bathroom. He and Les heard her throw up. Jack's stomach turned, and he frowned, as he hated to see her sick. Sometimes he would mope around the square if he had seen her anything but happy. The curious few would always ask him what was wrong. Every time he would reply with sorrow: "Sarah ain't smilin' today."

She came back to the table smiling, face pale. When she sat down, he slid his arm around her waist and looked at Les. He was also wondering why she was sick.

"Read this." She flipped through the pages of the book, fingers trembling, and gave it to Jack.

He took that hand and shut the book. When he saw she looked confused, he put the hand to his lips. "You're not OK."

She took her hand back. "It's just a silly cold."

"You need to lay down or somethin'."

"It's only 4:30."

"Listen, please. No one throws up when they got a cold."

"I probably just picked something up in—"

Jack quieted her, since Les was still sitting there. "I ain't gonna sit here and let you throw up. I am just a newsie, but we know if one of us is sick, all of us is. You gotta lay down. Please?"

She nodded and let him assist her to the bed. He set up her pillow and pulled the covers back as she laid down. He set By The Roadside in the crook of her arm, knowing it was by her favorite author. If only he could read it to her.

David walked through the main door as the couple were saying their goodbyes for the day. He saw Jack kiss her and climb out the window. Then David checked on his sister, hanging up his vest.

"You alright?" He asked.

"Jack thought it was better if I lay down."

"Yeah." He hung up his hat, and the photograph he had been hiding inside fell to the ground.

Sarah propped herself up on her elbows and pointed. "Where did you get that?"

He picked it up, and gave it back. "I thought you could tell me."

"You went through my things." She sucked in her breath and put it under her pillow.

"I'm sorry." He stepped forward. "Just tell me what's going on?"

"Not now."

"C'mon."

"Not now, Davey!" She demanded loudly. Even Les from the kitchen was shocked. "I'll tell you later."

David rolled his eyes and walked off to buy back his unsold papers, irritated with life itself.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack returned to the lodging house late that night. Everyone did, for one of Pulitzer's events at the theatre was being held there. He had tried to focus on the show and his friends dancing around. Some might say he even looked displeased with the Meadowlark's performance. The only thing on his mind was Sarah.

Kid Blink rolled into his bed, unbuttoning his shirt while he did so. Below him, Racetrack put out his last cigar for the night, and next to him lay Snipeshooter, who whistled to Jack:

"Ain't no performance like tonight, Cowboy!"

"I guess not."

"You was too busy thinkin' about Sarah, wasn't you!" Mush laughed, punching him.

Bumlets even joined in the teasing, whistled and singing across the room, "Cowboy's in _love_!"

Jack couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable as he made his way to the washroom. It was a little difficult being the leader and having a girlfriend, because most of his family acted very immature. It annoyed at times like this, even though he had once been like that before the strike.

He ran into Crutchy on the way in. "You ain't gonna make fun of me, are you?"

"Of course not, Jack!" Crutchy smiled, scanned his friend over and said to Blankets, who was standing nearby, "I betcha two bits you don't know what he's thinkin' right now."

"Oh, yeah? Is it-" The boy turned to Jack, imitating Sarah and singing, "Come back my lovey-dovey baby and coochie-coo with me."

"Ain't that nice, you got the kid to talk." Jack shooed them away, telling them to shut up. He went down to the last basin that the little kids had to bathe in. He removed a lose brick from under that, and under that he took out a small wooden box. The box contained a carton of cigarettes he had taken from Kid Blink, and a photograph of his parents at Coney Island. He looked at it, remembering how badly he had wanted a ranch out in Santa fe. How he lied to the others about his parents being out west.

He put a new picture in there, his own drawing of Sarah asleep on a park bench. Perhaps that was why he had to tell the newsies about their disappearance. What had happened that night in court ruined him last year. They were his family, and the day the strike ended, he promised he would never lie to them again.

Was it fair to Sarah not to tell her family? Of course, he though. Jack knew how David would react without thinking, and he thought that might hurt Sarah even more. It made sense in Jack's mind. All he cared about was her.


	5. Chapter 5

The next afternoon, Jack was selling papers on the street where Sarah worked. It was on lower Broadway, and one of the worst working conditions for her. He had to keep himself from running down there to check if she had gotten any worse. Was she OK, he wondered? Did she spill anything to David, or maybe she had fainted? He didn't know.

He sat down on a barrel, stared at the ground and wondered to himself. If he knew how to read, the papers would get this off his mind.

A pair of brown shoes approached him. He didn't look up as the owner said, "Why the long face?"

"I'm just tryin' to make things better and it ain't workin'."

"That's too bad. You shouldn't give up, however."

"How do you figure that?"

"I once knew about a dozen boys who did the best with what they had. They never gave up. And they won."

Jack looked up, relieved to see Bryan Denton standing there. The two hugged, for they had not seen each other since the strike ended. Jack was glad to see someone that he could talk to.

"So where you been?" He asked once they sat down at Tibby's.

"The Sun hired me back as a regular reporter. Last month I covered the new underground railroad linking Brooklyn to our island."

Jack smiled, wondering how Spot felt about that.

"How are the Jacobs?"

Jack leaned back, toying with the lasso tied around his waist. It took him a minute to speak. "Fine. David and Les are fine."

"And Sarah?"

"She's sick."

Denton sucked in his breath. He had never been in love before, and he couldn't imagine what his friend felt like. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"She's been actin' weird. One minute she'll be all good, and then the next she ain't."

"Well she's a girl. You know how they can be sometimes."

"This is different. It's like—" Jack grunted, frusterated. "It's like ever since we left Santa Fe she's been sick and mad at me and all that."

Denton did a double take. "Santa Fe?"

The newsboy frowned. "I've said too much."

"Well, maybe she ate something funny."

"I guess." Jack pointed out the window. "She works down that way."

Denton looked, surprised by the amount of sincerity in the boy's voice.

"You know, when we snuck away, we had the best time. I think we both did."

"What happened?"

"Nothin' much. I ain't never been happier…although once when I wasn't paying attention Sarah got lost at a carnival. She let go of my hand and the crowd pushed her away, I guess. Found her behind the ferris wheel. We sat there for hours, just in our own little world. I kinda had to calm her down. She ain't used to crowds."

"Was she alright?"

"She was shaken up. I guess she was mad at me for 'leaving' her. I really just turned around and she was gone. I told her I was always gonna come for her."

"Did you mean it?"

Jack nodded, dejected.

"She didn't believe you, did she."

Jack felt tears coming to his eyes. He blinked them away and shook his head miserably, wondering how she didn't trust him. Maybe the strike had changed her. Pulitzer, after all, hadn't given him a choice. He didn't mean to sell them out. It was either that, or the Jacobs got hurt. And after all, once he had left in Roosevelt's carriage, he turned around and came back.

"Don't give up. She'll come around."

"Yeah." He rested his elbows on the table and smiled, trying to change the subject. "What about you? Met any girls yet?"

Denton shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Not yet I haven't. I've been looking at an ad for an upcoming performance. Ever heard of someone called the Swedish Meadowlark?"

"You mean Medda! She performed at the rally, the newsie rally, remember?"

"Her?" Denton was in awe. "I never got the chance to meet her. She was beautiful."

Jack smiled and laughed. Sure, Medda was beautiful, but not even half as amazing as Sarah. He saw girls on the street every day, the ones that would smile at him, recognizing the great strike leader. None of them matched Sarah's grace, and he turned away when they came to him. Although he loathed reading, Jack couldn't wait to go and see her, no matter what she had him read or how short a visit he stayed.

He looked out the window, remembering a line she had read him. And now he knew it was true:

_Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,__  
><em>_And so live ever -or else swoon to death._


	6. Chapter 6

It had been near three months since Sarah had been acting strange to her family. She was sitting on her bed, combing her hair, getting ready to go out. The photograph was hiding beneath her stack of books. She took it out, and examined it carefully. She remembered everything about it. And the dress – Jack had taken it from the store. She didn't care if he had stolen it. If only the thing fit now.

"Sarah." Mayer leaned against the door, with Les beside him. "Where are you going?"

"To the market."

"You're getting in that frock for groceries?"

Sarah looked down and smoothed out the fabric. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing." Mayer scanned his daughter over. "It was a little big for you last month."

She rolled her eyes and dressed Les in his hat. He always had to come to the market with her when he wasn't sleeping, eating, or selling papers. He got lonely and she knew it. However, this time she wished she could go alone. Les grabbed his sword and walked out the door behind her.

Frowning, Sarah went with a pace that was too quick for her brother. He had to run to keep up with her, artfully dodging children and grown-ups, trying to play with his sword at the same time. A couple blocks later, she turned down a different street and into a quieter part of the city. The silence was odd to them. She only stopped so he could catch up.

"The market was block that way." He panted, "Across the street! Sarah?" He walked after her again, shouting: "Where are we going?"

"Keep up." Sarah passed a couple more blocks and stopped at a large building no child would like to be. Les didn't like it one bit.

He followed her inside the big brown doors and waited patiently with her in the lobby. She was scared. Very scared.

"Sarah, why are we at the doctor's?"

"Shh."

"Are you gonna throw up again?"

She looked at him, trying her best to smile. "It's going to be OK."

When she was called, they both walked down the long hall to the examination room. Les was kissed on the head and told to wait in the hall.

He was worried, Sarah could tell. He was just a child and too young to be worried about this. A few nights earlier she had found him asleep on the fire escape, practicing his writing in his journal. There she had found he was recording his dreams. One of them was Sarah dying, or Jack doing something bad to her. She found out Les had practically been living in worry.

Outside the door, he paced around, playing with his sword. It was a long time the appointment his sister had obviously set was over. He just wanted to go home. He hated the doctors. And then he heard a muffled cry from the other side of the door. He put his ear to it.

"Are you sure?" He heard Sarah cry.

"Yes, ma'am." said the nurse.

Les heard the results and dropped his sword. He wanted to cry, but it was impossible to ignore his anger. He didn't know what to do. At first he curled up into a ball, sitting on the floor. By the time Sarah came out, the only thing there was the cardboard sword.

He ran down the city streets, as fast as his little legs could carry him. He pushed nearly everyone out his way as he did so. He didn't stop until he reached Irving Hall. Then he looked around until he found the one person he wanted to see.

Jack and Racetrack were leaning on the stairs beneath Medda's dressing room. Les stood there, silent for a minute. The music echoed faintly from the stage. And then it began.

"You said…" He began, stepping towards Jack. "You said you were good to her."

"And I was." Jack replied.

"What's the matter, kid?" Racetrack said, but was immediately pushed aside by the little boy who went at the leader.

"Hey!" Cowboy's eyes were wide, startled. He made an attempt to calm Les down. "What's going on here?"

"You said you would take care of her!" Les screamed, hitting harder. "You _promised_! Scabber! Bastard!"

"Quiet, there's a show—"

He punched every inch of Jack's body he could reach. Some of the audience could hear as he nearly blew out his voice, trying not to cry. "_Don't act like you don't know!_"

Racetrack took him by the shoulders and pulled him away, kneeling. Les broke down, throwing his arms around the newsboy, who embraced him back. He sobbed in no one to general getting quieter with every word: _you promised_.

Jack was stunned, he had never seen Les cry like this. He shook his head miserably, trying to understand. Confused, and angry at himself, he decided he didn't want to know.


	7. Chapter 7

"Go to your room." Said David to Les once their parents came home. "This isn't for you."

Sarah stood at the table, her eyes wide open but heaving. Her face was pale, and she stared at the checkered tablecloth while her father asked questions. His face was turning red.

David's heart sank to his stomach as he watched. "I wish you would just let her explain."

"She doesn't need to explain." Mayer spat. "She ran away, whoring off with that boy. He better had paid you for it."

"He's _Jack_! You liked him last year!"

"We never should have trusted him! He got you out of work, and we were late on the bill every month you were out of work. But Sarah helped, our 'sweet' daughter, isn't that right Esther? Love has a way of spoiling things, Dave, but that's something you wouldn't understand."

Esther waited silently for everyone to stop screaming, and in the bedroom Les slipped under the covers. He pressed his hands to his ears as Mayer called Sarah everything imaginable, cursing on every sentence. David grew red.

"Maybe I didn't want to be what you wanted! I'm not the perfect girl, alright? I was tired of doing what everyone expects for me to do. Jack and David had an adventure last year, why shouldn't I have one?" Sarah yelled. "I'd rather sell myself on the streets than live with you, someone who's supposed to love me no matter what!"

Her father smacked her across the face. Esther stood up, shouting, "Then go! You aren't our daughter anymore!"

"Go and be his whore, like you've always been!" Mayer towered over her now, raising his voice even louder. "But let me tell you: once he's tired of you he's gone. And he won't be coming back. They're all the same, those damned newsboys! They'll come after you once Jack's gone, paying their best coin each for a show!"

"That's _ENOUGH!_" David yelled, throwing himself between them. He shoved the old man into the table, earning a black eye.

Sarah's stomach twisted, fat tears streaming down her cheeks into her hair. Was this really happening? She asked herself, and then was brought back to reality by David grabbing her shoulders.

"Get out of here!" He shouted, dragging her to the door. "Go! Get out!"

He swung the door shut. She stood in the hallway, listening to the awful sounds of Mayer's anger and David hitting the floor. It seemed he hit it again, and again. He shouted for Esther, who had run into the bedroom to console Les. Sarah was rooted to the spot, until she remembered what David had said. Then she ran down to the streets, past the unlit shops, and to the only place she could think of.

At the lodging house, the rain pounded against the roof, sending the little ones into a panic. The older ones calmed them down, and drained the bathwater from the tin tubs out the window. The little boys stood, waiting to be dressed again, when Kid Blink heard the door slam downstairs.

"Kloppman must've forgot to take his medicine again." He said with a laugh.

None of the others joined him. Mush put the lights out in the washroom, and left Jack to the kids with a candle. He and the other boys were surprised to see a familiar face standing in the dormitory. It was Sarah, drenched and tired. Her eyes were red, and she seemed a little heavier. The newsboys respected her enough to cover themselves, and moved out of the way when she came down the aisle. They could tell that she was sick, and crying, even though the rain stained her face. Kid Blink offered her an apple he had saved from breakfast. She quietly rejected it. And then Jack appeared, sending the kids to bed. His eyes wide, and no one said anything.

Jack hesitated at first, and then she fell forward. He ran and caught her. All eyes were upon them as they whispered to each other. He kissed her, again and again, wiping away the tears and rain. "What happened?" they heard him say. She buried her face in his shoulder. He had missed her, and for a minute she thought he would never let her go. Right then, she was the only thing in the room he saw.

In a flood of nerves, Sarah pulled back. The newsboys watched as Jack grabbed a set of clothes, excusing the two to privacy. He slid the washroom doors shut, and when he turned around she was already changing.

"I'm sorry," She sniffed, pulling off her skirt as he tossed her the slacks. "I'm so sorry. I know you didn't want me to tell them but I had to…"

He let her cry. Had he done something wrong? He knew that if he had, he would never forgive himself. Never had he been so scared. He saw her throw her blouse on the floor, and noticed her belly was getting slightly rounder. He sat her down, putting her shaking hands on her lap, and he put the dry shirt on for her. He stuttered as his hands shook too, suddenly clumsy and overwhelmed. "Was it David? I'll kill him."

"No," She watched him do the buttons, trying not to cry. "He actually stood up for me. But Papa beat him – I think he's hurt, he made me leave before things got too bad-"

"So they kicked you out? All for a bit of fun?"

Sarah looked at him. "Don't be silly. They kicked me out because three months ago, you and I jumped a train to Santa Fe."

He knew it. Getting on both knees now, he held her. "Don't worry. You can stay here. Everything's going to be alright."

"No." She pushed away, a new wave of tears on her face. "You don't understand."

"What do you mean?"

She stopped her crying and took his hands. It was quiet as she put them on her stomach. And he felt the softest kick from inside her. He sat on the floor, his face in his hands.

"You tellin' me," his voice broke, "I'm gonna be a father?"

She nodded again as his own tears came. He blinked them back, and stood up. It was his fault. All his fault…

"Jack?"

He shook his head. "No."

She saw what he meant. Her world blurred as he whispered "I'm sorry." And ran off through the dormitory.

The newsboys watched her. One of the older ones pulled up a crate next to the girl and put his arm around her in an act of comfort. That boy, being Skittery, let her rest in his lap. And soon they all came, gradually, collecting their left-over food and money for her. It was all nice, this act, but Jack was all Sarah could think about. Mayer was right.


	8. Chapter 8

In the morning, David paced the floor while Sarah lay on Spec's bed, twisting a washed-out bandana between her fingers. A couple newsboys stood around, studying their papers waiting for someone to say something. The floorboards creaked as David paced faster, the soot that caked it fell through the cracks to the foyer. If Kloppman were awake, they would have been in trouble.

"What are we gonna do?" said David, touching his swollen eye. "You think she can stay here for the time being?"

"Nah, someone's bound to find her." replied the boy.

"I happen to know of a home for injured sweets like herself." Racetrack interjected, tipping his hat.

"Or the basement." interjected Kid Blink.

Sarah watched as they discussed her future, as if they had a say. That was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to get away from. She wasn't going to go anywhere if they told her to. Also, who was David to decide? He was the _middle _child, after all...

"Listen," she sat up and raised her voice. "I know what you're trying to do, but I'm the oldest of you and Les, Davey. I'm old enough to think for myself."

"Really? Obviously, you might have thought about that before getting pregnant." David shouted.

"Maybe you shouldn't have gone on strike. Then I wouldn't have felt so left out!"

"What the hell does that have to do with it?"

That question went unanswered. David started to pace again, as Racetrack explained to Mush how one becomes with child. To know of that was rare in the streets.

"He seemed so proud of hisself." said the boy, thinking of how Jack was much more happy after their return. "I guess he didn't know how it happened, either."

Sarah grimaced. "He knew. I told him I'd read it out of a book. He said if anything happened, he'd be there. ...Don't groan like that, Dave. I know you didn't want to trust him last year. But he would not lie to me."

"Yeah? But he left, alright? Jack doesn't want a kid, or you!" David knelt in front of her and squeezed her hands. His eyes were scared and bigger than she had ever seen them. "Don't you understand? Papa was right, once you told him he was gone! People like him can't handle that. You need to come _home_, OK, and get that thing out of your stomach before things get any worse. Why can't you get that in your head?"

She stared at him, rubbing her hands. Did he not understand her side of it? Last year, she could barely sleep, worrying about him. The New York streets were dark and violent, Les could have passed out in an alley somewhere and hurt by one of the mad trolley strikers, or carried off by the Bulls. David could have been killed in a gang fight, which happened often to other boys in the city. It was terrifying, but important to them. That is why she put up with it. ...and then Jack was arrested...

"Dammit, say something!" He waited a minute, then stood up abruptly and swung around to the newsboy he had forgotten were there. "Take care of her."

Then he was gone. Racetrack sat down next to the trembling Sarah, putting his vest around her. Mush handed her Jack's bandana, and Kid Blink leaned against the bed rail. They couldn't stand to see her cry.

"He didn't mean it. He's just - you know-" Mush tried.

"Yeah. David doesn't think straight when he's angry..."

"Like last year, he tried to break Cowboy outta jail, and he didn't even try to hide. Just went right up to Pulizter's mansion. Right of in front of God, Snyder, and that other guy."

"I remember he came home crying." She clutched the chest of Jack's shirt, wondering if Mush really knew who God was.

Kid Blink handed her a towel, which Racetrack took to wiped her face. Mush produced a knockwurst wrapped in paper, offered it to her, and she refused.

"C'mon, sweetie. You gotta eat."

"Not hungry." Her stomach twisted. She was used to Racetrack calling her that, but now it just felt discomforting.

"You're eating for two, now. Please."

"No, thank you."

The boys sighed. They had seen lots of girls like this - mostly the ones selling themselves, and a few newsgirls. They knew she couldn't stay here, but their hearts heaved with worry. Those streets were dangerous, [as they proceeded to tell her] and she'd get lost out there. Not to mention the food and money scarcity for streetrats. People came and went everyday, and most were hurt for just turning a wrong corner. Older boys wouldn't go nice on her just because she's a lady. 'We've seen too many things happen to people who don't deserve it,' they said solemnly, 'and it's not going to get any better.'

She thought of the Delancies, how they had treated her last year. She knew what they had done was next to nothing compared to others.

However, she picked up her head, knowing where refuge could be found. She was kicked out by Kloppman at the time of supper, and to the boys' dismay, she headed for the river.


	9. Chapter 9

At daybreak, Sarah woke up in the alley just near Fulton Market. Her hair was matted and Jack's shirt was covered in a film of dirt. _How could people live like this?_ There must be hundreds of homeless boys and girls in New York, if not thousands, and yet somehow the thought of it escaped the minds of the more fortunate. It appalled her how many faces looked up at her through abandoned shops (this was the poorer side of the market) and how many of them were recoiling even at the sound of the ferries' horns. At first, she thought they were sick, but soon she heard whispers. 'Not there…' they seemed to be saying, 'Not to Brooklyn, it's got worse…'

By the time she reached Dock Street, the sun was already up. The boys were getting ready to sell, and there was more than she expected. Bigger, too, and meaner looking. They leaned against their clubs as she passed, clicking their tongues, for they didn't know she was a girl. She kept a straight face, hoping she looked braver than she felt. Then again, a trespasser wasn't bound to stay long…

Finally, she reached the person she wanted to see. He was up on his crow's nest, looking down with piercing eyes. His 'assistant', Spike, was a boy of 10 and chewed his tobacco loudly as he examined the situation.

"Looks like we got a visitor!" Spot Conlon announced, cocking his head. His boys gathered around while he readied his slingshot.

"I'm here to find the boy I love." replied Sarah.

Spot jumped down and stepped forward as he had done to David many months ago. "I ain't feeling the same. Try that death wish again and I'll kick ya halfway to Queens."

She took off her cap (that she had stolen from Specs) and let her hair fall. A few of the boys whistled at her, one even took her roughly by the waist and sidled up. She pushed him away, but he only came back. Spot laughed.

"Alright, that's enough, Rivers." He clapped Sarah on the shoulder after a chorus of laughter from the other boys, noticing she was rather uncomfortable. The boy, which was twice Spot's size, sauntered off.

"I didn't come here to be assaulted." She whispered.

"I know, love. I personally prefer you in a dress. Fits you better."

The boys went off while Spike lit a cigar and gave it to the leader. Sarah put her gift behind a barrel – Racetrack's best cigars would to go waste. Spot tried not to blush as they sat down next to each other.

"Ain't no trouble with Jackie-boy, is there?" thinking this was his only chance to get a girl, he pulled back his slingshot.

"I guess he's not ready to be a father." She whispered again.

He examined her over and over again, the slingshot hit the ground. He dismissed the assistant; and speechless, he noticed she had gained weight…_but why the surprise? _He thought. _Hadn't it happened to others before, by other newsies? Surely not on Jack's behalf, but the stronger newsboys were capable of anything…_

"I suspect a couple moSre months, or maybe six? The baby would be Polish from my side, and Jack said something about Welsh on his. But it's difficult to know when he's telling the truth." Her heart skipped a beat. She imagined a boy with bright brown eyes and tawny hair…a little Jack. How perfect.

Spot did nothing but answer stupidly: "you must be hungry." With that, he pulled out his lunch of bread slices and handed it to her. She nearly devoured it.

"I need help. I need food and somewhere to live." She wiped a tear off her face and pleaded, "I know you can help."

Spot clicked his tongue and put his arm around her shoulder. "Sounds like you got it bad, love. Stop your crying. Have a smoke." He took the cigar out of his own mouth, and she accepted it.

_Oh, if only Mama could see me now! _Sarah cracked a smile. Her mother would have screamed. Jack would be almost proud, and David would be shocked. It gave Sarah great pleasure that smoking was not considered an innocent act of a girl her age, or of any age.

Spot was impressed by her smoking, but even more impressed as she leaned in close.

"You can help, can't you?" She smiled, tears now gone. "You can do anything."

He raised an eyebrow, put out his chest, and tried not to blush. "Really?"

Then it was silent. They were too close for both their comforts. She stood up and felt guilty, _but why? _It was the only way to get what she wanted. Spot felt guilty for liking his friend's girl…but his friend wasn't here now, was he?

"Is it safe here?" she asked.

"Are you afraid?"

"No! Mush and Blink just told me-"

"That we _make_ girls come to bed with us? That we charm our way out of debt to the prostitutes? That every time a girl comes by we stick our canes up their skirts, or maybe court them by force?" He laughed. "Sweetheart! It's only a half-truth. If it were all true, would we still be talking right now? …Ah, don't look so scared. I ain't gonna do a thing to you. Just as long as the boys stay away from the alchohol, you'll be fine."

"Dammit, can you help me or not?"

He smiled as he watched goosebumps rise on her skin. "On a few conditions: I let you live in my clubhouse and give you food. In exchange for your little cowboy." He took his cane and pointed at her stomach.

Now she was stunned. Letting her child grow up here with the street rats? In _Brooklyn_? She felt sick again.

"You OK?" He stepped forward out of concern.

"I can't do that."

He held up his hands. "It it's got problems, you can keep it. If I need to, I'll leave it to the newsgirls."

"Any other negotiations?"

"Fine, we'll compromise. If Jack comes back before it comes out, you two can have your little family. But if he doesn't-"

"Spot Conlon, you're an ass if I ever saw one!"

He smiled and watched her smoke. After a few minutes, she sat down and threw the cigar into the river. He thought of how big a tease she was, shaming himself for making her feel like that.

"Sarah, you ain't the girl I thought you was."

"Everyone says that." She felt a kick and looked around for more food.

They looked at the river and watched the other boys swim around. The bridge was beautiful, a harp against the morning sky. So it was a deal, they both decided. With eyes like the sky, he turned to her and solemnly asked:

"You really think Cowboy's gonna come back?"

Sarah stood up with her hand on her stomach. "Of course. He'll always come for me."


	10. THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER

Hi! I realize it's been a while. I'm so sorry to go all Lemony Snicket on you, but I have to share something.

The ending of Chapter 9 was not the ending I intended. I hope you all have accepted it.

I wrote a bit of the end back when this was still a thing for me and I would love to share it with you. Just IM me. It was to be tragically epic and sad, and totally not like the Newsies world we all know and love.

So, I'll share it with you if you contact me.

Love,

Erin.


	11. Final Outline

Hi! I doubt any of you that read this story when I was posting regularly are reading this right now, but that's okay. Why would anyone wait three years? It's been that long since I've given Newsies a second glance on my DVD shelf, since I've talked to my tumblr friends about it, all of that has passed. I love the movie deeply, and that time in my life was one of the best experiences I have ever had. You know who you are if you know what I'm talking about.

I feel very nostalgic right now, and I may cry as I type this. Why am I telling you that? I don't know. I didn't post anything all this time because in 10th grade, when I started this and when I last posted, I had trouble passing all my classes. I almost got held back, and so I stuffed my writing notebook into a drawer of my desk (which I just found along with my slingshot, haha). I meant to post that summer, but I had to take summer school. I nearly didn't graduate. This led to lots of depression, the kind I had before I found Newsies and all my friends that came with it. That's why I didn't post. I never meant to stop, and I feel horribly guilty about it. If I messaged you about sending a final outline…I'm so, so sorry. As a freshman in college, I am SO past my deadline…

Here it is. But may I warn you: there are guns, violence, abortion, and even rape.

David, Mush, and Kid Blink are at David's apartment. Les sits in the fire escape while David tutors the boys in reading and writing. Mush asks why there are so many broken bottles lying around. David explains that Meyer has been drinking since Sarah left. The boys tell him how Jack had run off and how they think she might have gone to Spot for help. David has a bit of a meltdown, saying "I'll kill Jack, I swear, if he ever comes back…" and "Spot is a goddamned son of a bitch if he thinks he can take care of my sister." They set in stone plans to go to Brooklyn and confront Spot themselves. As ties with the boroughs had faded away in the past year – _if my memory serves correctly that this is set in 1900_ - this mission has a 50/50 chance of going well, or being the beginning of a gang war.

This is was going to be a rather short chapter. Jack's on a train, heading to Boston to scrounge up some money. _Why did I choose Boston? I don't know._

Sarah and Spot go through a marketplace. Sarah keeps up her guise as a male. Spot teaches her how to pickpocket and how to survive as a streetrat. She catches on quick, which Spot is thoroughly impressed with. She tries to keep up the sensual-ness, which Spot tells her to stop: "Women don't need to do that to get what they want. Not to me, anyways." There are violent examples of Spot being a leader when they catch some newsboys (maybe 12, 13 years old) harassing a newsgirl. He has an inner dialogue while watching Sarah soak up the freedom of fending for herself. He worries the boys will find out she never left, and what he'll do with his soon-to-be heir, and if Jack will come back before she has the baby. He may or may not have feelings for her. He's rather confused at this point.

David, Racetrack, Les, Bumlets, and Kid Blink walk down the Brooklyn pier. A few bigger boys push Les around, and Spot has to come and break it up. The boys confront him about Sarah, which he denies ever seeing her. Nervously, he looks over his shoulder towards his "clubhouse", a deserted building by the shore _(which I did not make up. It's in the book adaption and I think it's in an early draft of the script_). The boys' tempers rise, but they eventually let it go. Les throws a few insults, which Spot is surprised by. To keep his reputation up, he throws a few back as his boys start to gather around.

David steps close to him.

"I swear to god," he said, his teeth gritted, "If you or any of you S. lay a finger on my sister-"

"She ain't here." Spot sneered.

"If you're lying, or if you find her and do God knows what, you're dead."

"You wouldn't kill me, Davey. Or it'll be war." Spot turned to his boys, his arms stretched out as if he were a God. "Ain't that right, fellas?"

"Then let it be war."

One night in Boston, Jack turns a wrong corner and runs into a couple ladies. He realizes they are prostitutes and tries to get away. But of course he's a bit drunk, so he finds himself upstairs with one. As she tries to get things going, he resists halfheartedly. She puts a real effort into it, trying to undress him, but he is overwhelmed by it and his loyalty to Sarah. He pushes the lady away, and quickly gets some stuff of his chest. He calms down, seeing that he's scared her. He goes to her, kisses her forehead as an apology, and pays her. He walks out.

In Spot's clubhouse, Spot brings Sarah a loaf of bread and a new dress, which he says is a baby gift. She wolfs down the bread, but her stomach still grumbles. The baby kicks, and she makes him feel it. _(Ok, I forget what trimester she's in here, but I'm going to guess it's the second.)_ Spot apologizes about not being able to provide her with better provisions. She doesn't respond. As if she's ignoring him, she admires the new dress, saying stuff like "It's so nice!" and "you must sell a lot of papers to buy something this fancy." He's pretty modest about it. She makes him turn around so she can change. However, he's facing a copper tub, and tries his best not to watch her in the reflection. She asks him to tie the sash, which he fumbles with, as he's both flustered and doesn't know how to tie a bow. "Cowboy was gonna teach me to, how to tie all sorts of knots, but I guess he forgot." Feeling depressed at the mention of Jack, Sarah can't gather the strength to ask for a hug. She asks him how to shoot a slingshot instead. He stands behind her, taking her hands with his, showing her the proper positions and whatnot. They smash a bottle, and she turns around in excitement. They're both silent as they realize how close they are. Spot leans in, when suddenly the door opens behind them. Spot's assistant is standing there, shocked, and makes a run for it. Spot runs after him. He catches him, beating the boy, swearing at him, and swears him to secrecy. "You know what Rivers and them does to women. They don't know she's here and it's gotta stay that way. So you keep your fucking mouth shut. Ya hear me?" _Rivers is a newsie the fandom named. In the film, he's the one that's coming up the ladder when the boys go to Brooklyn. I imagine he's the biggest, scariest dickhead in Brooklyn._

Boots and Snipeshooter are sent by Kid Blink to scope Conlon's territory out. They find lots of liquor, run by an alleyway where a boy and a girl making out, and to the Brooklyn lodging house. They run up the fire escape, spying on a meeting. Spot is standing in the middle of all his boys, and some newsgirls too. He is again being accused of hiding a girl, and maybe going a bit soft. He defends himself like the tough leader we see in the film, the way his boys think he should be. Boots and Snipeshooter think he's taken advantage of Sarah. They run back to Manhattan to tell the news.

All of the boys are in a rage when they hear this, although Boots says that they don't know for sure, but they definitely heard Spot say he's fucking and abusing a girl and that he refuses to share her with the rest of them. David calms the others down, even though he's just as angry. He tells them that no fighting is the way to go, because "If Spot does have her, then that means she hasn't terminated the baby yet. We can't go barging in there. She's an adult. She's 18. And I'm sure none of them would touch a pregnant girl anyways."

Sarah has been moved in the middle of the night to a room in the lodging house. The bump is small, but it would give away her disguise. The room she's in is the delivery room, according to the newsgirls that Spot has assigned to take care of her. She can hardly sleep at night because the drunken boys downstairs keep her up. The newsgirls tend to her, and Spot comes to visit as often as possible. One night he brings Tumbler (another fandom name, the tiny Hispanic newsie in orange, the one who jumps up right before the credits roll). He's there because he volunteered to deliver messages between Brooklyn and Manhattan. He warns Spot that the boys are convinced Sarah is here and that they think he raped her. Spot tells him the truth, and Tumbler goes back, but the boys aren't sure what to believe.

_And then I have a gap between that and the first few weeks of her third trimester. It's gets a bit more graphic from here. In my mind her bump isn't very big, because it would be undernourished, but I don't is the rape bit, so I thought I might tell you that._

One night, Tumbler comes in, scared to death of the older boys. He saw them drinking and shooting rocks at stray animals. He climbs under the covers while Sarah comforts him and he gives her a telegram from Jack. I'M SORRY. STOP. Is all it says, as if it's all he could afford to write. They have a nice chat about that, and share a sweet moment about the baby having all those uncles. Sarah thinks about telling him about Spot's deal, but decides not to.

Just then, River and a bunch of the older newsboys bust open the door. They're all in a drunken rage. They push the newsgirls out of the room and grab Tumbler by the limbs. They spit on him, curse, and beat him until he cries. Sarah screams at them to stop, but Rivers kneels by her side and puts a hand over her mouth. Once she's quiet, he gets physical, caressing her face and playing with her hair, pulling on it when she tries to get him off. The boys egg him on as he harasses her, whistling and whatnot. Rivers notices the bump and laughs, saying "Looks like she's knocked up, fellas! Where's your lover, honey? Left you when you got him in trouble?" Just then, Spot appears in the doorway.

He stared them down, furious.

"What the hell is going on here?" He demanded. "Answer me!"

"Caught this little trespasser making himself at home with that whore." Said one boy.

Tumbler groaned, looking at Spot with pleading eyes. "What do you suppose we do with the little bastard?"

Spot stood silent for a moment, looking around at his men. He looked at Sarah, who was still fighting Rivers, silently begging Spot to have mercy. But that wasn't the way.

"Punish him."

Sarah screamed as the boys surrounded the child, and a giant –CRACK!- was heard throughout the room. Spot turned away as Tumbler's body fell in a heap to the floor.

Rivers cackled, his hands running down over the covers. Spot turned to him, whipping his cane around.

"Leave. Her. Alone. That's an order."

Rivers pulls out a knife. At this point, Spot is afraid of what he'll do to Sarah, and the oncoming war, but yet he still needs to be the leader he's always been. Rivers accuses him of going soft, and Spot tries to defend himself, as Rivers gets angrier and angrier. Spot yells until he's on the verge of tears. Rivers asks Spot if he's in love with Sarah. Everything falls quiet. Spot hesitates and says no. To prove it, Rivers makes him kiss her.

"So if she's not fucking you," Rivers laughed, pinning Sarah's shoulder down, "I can have my way with her?"

Spot realizes this is unavoidable, and Sarah begins to cry.

"Don't." Sarah whispered.

'I'm sorry." He whispered back. "I'm so, so sorry."

Spot turned, ordering his boys to get out. He shut the door behind him, and finds it hard to walk away as he hears her shout.

Rivers stripped down and climbed on top of her. She took his knife and slashed his face, but it didn't do so much as phase him. He laughed and threw the knife across the room. His eyes grew and he pinned down her arms. She held her breath as he came closer to her neck.

"Now, sweetheart, let's see what's so special about Miss Sarah Jacobs."

The following morning, Spot comes in to check on her. Her face is unharmed, but he looks under the covers to find bruises all over her body. He thinks she's sleeping, so he breaks down. He apologizes, crying, over and over. He admits he's been lying to his boys all along, and if he hadn't been maybe things would have turned out different. He never had any women in his warehouse bed, he never hurt any women like his boys would have done. He tells her his real name, and how the kid is so lucky to have a mother like her. He tells her everything.

Two nights later – The two boroughs meet in Battery Park. Spot reluctantly stands in the front, not feeling up to fighting. Sarah had been having contractions all day, but the newgirls delivering the baby told him she shouldn't give birth for a while. He doesn't believe her, and there's no sign of Jack.

The battle begins with the boys exchanging some crude insults. David makes sure that the fight is a fair one – no weapons. Spot tells David that Sarah is alright, until Rivers throws a rock at the Manhattan side and mouths off about all that happened that night. David charges, and a violent rumble follows suit.

Back at the tenements, Les picks the lock of Meyer's safe and finds a gun. He's petrified that the one of Brooklyn's will carry the fight over here. So when a figure appears at the fire escape, he points the gun, shaking. He follows the figure outside, and the intruder slaps a hand on his mouth as he begins to scream. It's Jack. A few angry words and and tears and an explanation and they take off to Battery Park. Les explains the chaos that Tumbler had said, and Jack races into the bloody fight. He and Spot are opponents, sharing some terrible dialogue, and Jack finds out where Sarah is and runs to her. Spot, Kid Blink, Racetrack, and David follow him.

At the lodging house, Sarah has already given birth. The newsgirls had taken the baby away to a wet nurse, as it was malnourished already. Jack and the Manhattan boys decide to split up. Jack finds Sarah sobbing, screaming for her baby, and they hug and kiss and all that. Spot comes in, bloody and crying, aiming the gun at Jack.

"Spot, stop!" Sarah screamed. "It's over! You can't do this!"

"The hell I can!" Spot shook with rage, cocking the gun.

"What did I ever do to you?" Jack shouted. "I helped you."

"You hurt her. This is all your fault. You deserve to die more than any of these bastards here."

"I left to make a better life for us."

"Well, you failed, Cowboy! Now look what's happened!"

Just then, David rushed in. Kid Blink followed, a small bundle in his arms. David bolted, but stopped in his tracks as Spot put the gun to his chin.

"I just wanted something of my own." He cried. "An heir. A kid. And maybe – maybe you too."

Sarah's eyes grew wide. Jack held her close, and Spot's finger curled around the trigger.

"Don't do this, Conlon!" Kid Blink screamed.

Spot smiled at the little face in the newsboy's arms. A sense of calm passed over his eyes. He had made his peace with his guilt.

"Blink, just tell me. Tell me what it is."

Kid Blink hesitated for a second, and looked over the baby.

"It's a girl, Spot. It's a girl."

"A girl." Spot smiled and wiped his face with his free hand. "Does it have her eyes?"

"Yes." Kid Blink looked into them, the lovely brown eyes. "Looks just like her."

"Ain't that sweet. You two must be proud."

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, David tackled him. The gun clattered to the floor and Spot broke down, hysterical. Sarah grabbed the gun and pulled herself to her feet.

"Why did you do that? Why didn't you let me die?"

"You don't get the easy way out." She aimed the gun. "You made a fool out of me, Spot Conlon. Now you're gonna suffer."

"It's not worth it, Sarah." Jack tried to pull her down, but she deflected him. "Look, it ain't-"

She pulled the trigger, shooting Spot in the arm. He screamed in agony, writhing about on the floor. David and Kid Blink yell, saying that it's not right, not for her. She remained unphased.

"Just do it, Sarah. Kill me please, I'm begging you." Spot screamed.

"Sarah, stop!" Kid Blink held the baby closer. "She's not going to make it."

It fell silent except for Spot's cries and the baby's tiny gasps for air. It was tiny and cold. It looked up at Kid Blink, tears in its eyes. He brought it to his father, where Jack realized it was more bundle than baby.

"Don't think I enjoy giving you a way out of this fucking place. But this-" -BANG!- "Is for stealing my kid." –BANG!- "That's for my family." She stepped closer, putting it to his head. She leaned down and kissed him before firing one more shot. "And that's for you."

So there it is. Sorry I was so demented in the 10th grade. Ironically, my original stories are as dark as this. But they're better. Here are some notes.

I believe I chose Boston because Jack's father was there, who had moved and become a wealthy businessman after his wife and son (or so he thought) had died of the epidemic. So Jack was somehow able to track him down and went to get money.

As for the war, I expect a few newsboys died in that fight. I'm not sure who, though. I think originally I wrote the kid as a survivor, but that's not realistic. She died.

Also, I had originally planned for the kid to be a boy and Sarah would name him Patrick, after Spot's real name. Patrick is Spot's real name (not officially, but it's entirely probable) because Conlon is an Irish name and during the 1890s, the majority of the people that immigrated into New York through Ellis Island were Irish. In Carrying The Banner, the lady sings about a son named Patrick and "God save my son", so she's probably Catholic too. She looks at a newsie that looks an awful lot like Spot and is even his height and has his hair color. It's practically canon that she's Spot's mother, but she can't find him because he changed his name and she wandered into the wrong borough and stayed there, or that he ran away. Actually the fandom thinks (or thought) that she was blind. But I have another idea:

I had another chapter planned that I had cut. Before the violent stuff happened, Spot went to her building and watched her go around in her apartment from the fire escape. She had noticed him, invited him in, fed him, but she didn't recognize him, which broke his heart. Especially since he had visited her many times before. He doesn't say "Mama, it's Patrick" anymore because then she would freak out and it's all sad. Think of The Notebook when Alli had that breakdown in the nursing home. I wrote that she had lost a bit of memory in a concussion in a factory accident. That's my headcanon as to why she can't find her son.

Anyways, sorry that that was super long. If you're reading this, please let me know. Leave a review or something. I know it's been three years. I hope you can forgive me.


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